


270 Days Of Magic

by orphan_account



Category: Death Note, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Magic, April Showers 2015, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Enemies, Gen, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Third Year, On Hiatus, Wizard Mello, Wizard Near, Wizarding World, Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:06:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3680799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Near and Mello join Hogwarts in their third year, no-one can predict Harry and Ron's reaction towards them. But as their hatred grows to tolerance and their tolerance to friendship, how will Mello and Near change their world - for better or for worse?</p><p>An old fic I dug up for the April Showers challenge. Originally published on fanfiction.net under my penname Querulous Night, and unedited in the two years since then. On hiatus and unlikely to be finished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	270 Days Of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> I'm basically a fanfic writer who used to write not-so-good HP/Death Note fics two years ago, so if you don't like/know the fandoms involved particularly well then don't bother. Sometimes enjoyable.

"Look, I know you took my chocolate!"  
"Why would I take your chocolate?"  
"You're Near, for god's sake! You'd do this just to wind me up!"  
"If I had, I'd be pretty pleased with the outcome."  
"Near, I swear that when we get to Hogwarts I'm going to grab your head, kick it a few times, slam it against a table and toss it in the Lake."  
"That would work. . . but how would you get your chocolate back then?"  
Harry sighed inwardly as the two continued bickering. They'd been on the Hogwarts Express for two hours now and the pair had argued for every single minute of the journey. Hermione had managed to escape to another girls' carriage after an hour of constant squabbling, but all Harry's friends' carriages were full. After searching for fifteen minutes, Harry had resigned himself to waiting it out. But they never even paused in their fights, and Harry seriously believed he'd go insane if he had to listen to a minute more of unceasing argument. 

 

Beside him, Ron slumped in his seat and shot Harry an angry look. Harry resented the glare, but he couldn't exactly blame Ron. It had been Harry, stupid Harry, who invited them to sit in their carriage. Rumour had it they were two Chinese geniuses who had only just discovered they were magic, and Harry was. . .well, curious. Is that a bad thing? he thought. Definitely in this case, his mind answered immediately. If only they had turned him down! But no. Mello and Near had accepted his offer, then promptly ignored him for the next 120 minutes (if you don't count the seven times that Mello had asked Harry to lend him a few Galleons for the sweet trolley). Well, I know one thing for sure, Harry thought grimly. I'm never spending time with these two again.

 

Harry was so lost in his hatred that he hardly registered the whoosh of steam that marked the Hogwarts Express stopping, only noticing when Ron leapt to his feet and bounded towards the carriage door. He thankfully grabbed his case and was about to leave the cabin when Near spoke to him for the first time. "Harry-san?"  
"What?"  
"Thank you for allowing us in your carriage."  
Near bowed stiffly from the waist, his movement more robotic than respectful. Mello mumbled something that Harry guessed was "Yeah, thanks", although he couldn't be sure. "Oh, it was no big deal. " Harry replied, out of politeness rather than friendliness. "Bye." And with that, he fled.

 

*** 

 

The Great Hall was heaving, as usual. Pumpkin juice slopped over leather trunks, fourth-years argued over tins of broompolish, sixth-years cracked jokes that grew louder and louder and the Hogwarts ghosts chattered away animatedly to anyone who would listen. Harry grinned. Hogwarts was home to him and had been from the moment he stepped in. The first day back was his homecoming each year. Ron could see that, Harry thought as he glanced at his friend's sauce-splattered face, and so could Hermione. And his third year was going to be better than ever. More practising Quidditch in the rainy evenings, more dozing in the common-room pretending to do homework, more sneaking out with Ron and Hermione under the Invisibility Cloak, more feasts, more friends, more fun. . . "I'm glad I'm back," Harry found himself telling Nearly Headless Nick. "I really am."

 

"Silence please," intoned Professor Dumbledore's sonorous voice and the Great Hall fell quiet. "Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts! I trust your holidays have left you sufficiently rested and ready for school, because I have a suprise quiz for you!" The whole school groaned. "Only joking," said Dumbledore, a twinkle in his eye. "Now the usual reminders. Argus Filch has asked me to tell all students that Exploding Gum is banned, especially when placed on corridor floors. The punishment for anyone found with it is a week's detention. If anyone wishes to know all the other banned items, please consult Mr Filch's 325-item list. I must inform new students, and remind some older ones, that the Forbidden Forest is, unsurprisingly, forbidden. The punishment for entering is much worse than a week's detention, I can assure you, but if any of you have any doubts about that I'll attempt to collect most of the pieces to be sent home to your grieving family. Anyway," he smiled with a clap of his hands, "we have some first-years to sort!" 

 

Professor McGonagall led in a shivering line of small-looking first-years. "Blimey," whispered Ron. "Were we ever that small?"  
"Shh, Ronald." Hermione reminded him. "Look, they're starting!" she murmured reverently.

 

Caps in hand, the long line of first-years trailed up to the Sorting Hat. "Abercromie, George!" McGonagall called, and a shaking first-year stumbled up and pulled the Sorting Hat on. Harry looked at him, wondering, as Ron had said, if they were ever as small as that. He had scared eyes and rumpled blond hair, but other than that he didn't tell Harry much. The Hat evidently didn't find much either. After a second or two it shouted "Hufflepuff!" and the boy pulled it off with a look of relief plastered all over his face. "Brownes, Matilda!" McGonagall shouted, and Harry felt his eyes drift shut. . .

 

"And now, we have two new students who have come from Japan to be with us. This is Mello and this is Near." Dumbledore's pleasant baritone voice cut through Harry's daydream. He sat up and looked around him, only to see the two arguers - Near and Mello, wasn't it? - standing next to the Sorting Hat. Neither looked at all worried though; Near was leaning against a stone pillar, evidently considering something, and a chocolate-stained Mello was scowling out at everyone. Already whispers were beginning to ripple down the tables. "Mello? Near? What kind of names are they?"  
"Near just sounds so poncy. I but he'll be this stuck-up little rich kid."  
"Why don't they have surnames, anyway?"  
"Look at Mello, standing there with his mouth covered in chocolate!"  
"How old does he think he is, five?"  
"Who do they think they are, the little bast-"  
Hermione's hand was clamped over Ron's mouth. "Stop it," she said firmly. "Give them a chance."  
"They argued for two hours solid and you want me to give them a chance?"  
"Just be quiet!"

Professor McGonagall beckoned Mello forward and he grinned a smile of triumph. "I was first," he whispered out the corner of his mouth. Sitting on the rough wooden stool, he quickly pulled the Sorting Hat on.

 

Oh. Wow. This is interesting.  
Wait. You talk? And you're magic? I'm going to have to find out how to do that!  
So much ambition. . . So much rivalry. . . And an incredibly keen mind too.  
I bet Near will be so jealous if I can animate something magically. There's no way he could, the little sheep.   
You've got a fiery spirit too, I see. Although it seems to be misdirected. . .  
He just does what he's told, never thinks for himself. . . Wait, what? Misdirected?  
And I can see you'd work for hours if it meant beating Near.  
Misdirected? Are you saying I'm MISDIRECTED?  
Control yourself. You could be so much greater, you know. It's a pity.  
A pity? A PITY!? You filthy old hat! You've been corrupted by age! You wouldn't know misdirected if it bit you on the face!  
Well, I can see where I'm going to have to put you. But I'd think you'd thrive elsewhere.  
I AM thriving, you stupid old hunk of leather!! You disgusting, germ-laden, nit-ridden old bundle of cow skin!  
Very well.  
"SLYTHERIN!!"  
There was a resounding cheer from the Slytherin table, who all congratulated themselves with backslaps and pumpkin juice toasts. The Ravenclaw table had visibly wilted, and Professor Flitwick had flopped miserably in his too-big chair and was barely visible.

 

"Near!" McGonagall announced, and Near looked up with the slightly confused air of a person who has been disturbed whilst thinking deep things. He glanced at the Sorting Hat and seemed to remember where he was, walking over and carefully putting the Sorting Hat on his head.

. . . You know, you're just as remarkable as the previous one.  
You mean Mello? You made the wrong decision there. Mello should be in Gryffindor.  
He gave me no choice.  
That's just an excuse. I thought you're meant to do what's right for the student?  
Slytherin was right for him.  
So were all the houses! You know he was a born Gryffindor!  
. . . You care about him, don't you?  
Yes.  
He hates you. His ambition and rivalry has turned itself into anger. He despises everything that you have done or will do, simply because he hasn't.  
Yes. I think I always knew that, all along. . . But he's greater in so many ways. He only lets himself see his failures. If only. . .  
Near, please. Stop it. Fate is unchangeable.  
. . . And that's all you have to say? Your fate was to grow old and eventually be thrown away. Someone changed that for you. Why can't I change Mello's fate?  
You know the answer to that.  
. . . Because he won't let me. He's too proud and too angry to let me fix him. He would rather die worthless than die someone else's way.  
. . . Near. Why do you act so cold-hearted? You. . .  
I don't know. I guess. . . it's who I am now.   
"Look, I know you took my chocolate!"  
"Why would I take your chocolate?"  
"You're Near, for god's sake! You'd do this just to wind me up!"  
"If I had, I'd be pretty pleased with the outcome."  
"Near, I swear that when we get to Hogwarts I'm going to grab your head, kick it a few times, slam it against a table and toss it in the Lake."  
"That would work. . . but how would you get your chocolate back then?"  
Harry sighed inwardly as the two continued bickering. They'd been on the Hogwarts Express for two hours now and the pair had argued for every single minute of the journey. Hermione had managed to escape to another girls' carriage after an hour of constant squabbling, but all Harry's friends' carriages were full. After searching for fifteen minutes, Harry had resigned himself to waiting it out. But they never even paused in their fights, and Harry seriously believed he'd go insane if he had to listen to a minute more of unceasing argument. 

 

Beside him, Ron slumped in his seat and shot Harry an angry look. Harry resented the glare, but he couldn't exactly blame Ron. It had been Harry, stupid Harry, who invited them to sit in their carriage. Rumour had it they were two Chinese geniuses who had only just discovered they were magic, and Harry was. . .well, curious. Is that a bad thing? he thought. Definitely in this case, his mind answered immediately. If only they had turned him down! But no. Mello and Near had accepted his offer, then promptly ignored him for the next 120 minutes (if you don't count the seven times that Mello had asked Harry to lend him a few Galleons for the sweet trolley). Well, I know one thing for sure, Harry thought grimly. I'm never spending time with these two again.

 

Harry was so lost in his hatred that he hardly registered the whoosh of steam that marked the Hogwarts Express stopping, only noticing when Ron leapt to his feet and bounded towards the carriage door. He thankfully grabbed his case and was about to leave the cabin when Near spoke to him for the first time. "Harry-san?"  
"What?"  
"Thank you for allowing us in your carriage."  
Near bowed stiffly from the waist, his movement more robotic than respectful. Mello mumbled something that Harry guessed was "Yeah, thanks", although he couldn't be sure. "Oh, it was no big deal. " Harry replied, out of politeness rather than friendliness. "Bye." And with that, he fled.They turned Mello into a failure and you into a robot. Why do you put up with them, Near? Why?  
I. . . I always wanted to be like L. He let them control his business. He trusted them. I . . . trusted them too.  
. . . . . . You know, you're nothing like what I expected. I thought I knew exactly where I was going to place you.  
Please. Can't you move Mello? I know you've done it before, back in 1282. He. . . I want to give him a chance.  
Even if he won't take it?  
Even if he won't take it.  
Hmm. . . Very well. If he proves that he is better suited in Gryffindor by performing acts of valour, bravery, chivalry and compassion, I shall consider moving him. You have my word.  
T-Thank you. But. . .  
I know. It'll be hard for him. But with his strength of mind, if he wants to he will overcome his challenges.  
"Gryffindor!"  
The Gryffindor table erupted in clapping, whooping and stamping the ground with glee as their newest student walked over. Harry and Ron looked at each other. "Bloody hell," Ron whispered. 

 

***

 

"Hey, Harry! How've you been?" Harry looked up from his overfull trunk, which was stubbornly refusing to open, to see the grinning face of Seamus. "Holiday was bloody awful," he explained. "We were stuck in this cramped little cottage in the Lake District for most of it, wishing it'd stop raining. Then the family owl decided to die. . ." Harry laughed at the rueful Seamus. "At least you're alive, " he pointed out.   
"True," said Seamus, looking thoughtful. "Ah, well. D'you want a hand with that trunk?"

After Dumbledore's speech and the feast that followed, the whole of Gryffindor house had trooped upstairs to their tower. Ron had immediately barged past two startled second-years in the common-room to nab the armchair right next to the fire, and an amused Harry followed suit. With all the new first-years huddling in little groups the place had seemed more crowded than ever, and after fifteen minutes chatting to George, Fred, Ron and a few others, Harry made his excuses and left to unpack his trunk. And now, he thought as he and Seamus struggled with the straps, if I could only get into it. . .

"Oh, hello."  
Harry looked up only to see the too-familiar face of Near, who was barely visible inside a huge pair of white pyjamas. "What?" He asked bluntly, angry all over again at Near being placed in Gryffindor. Much to his suprise, though, Near didn't seem to care about what Harry said. He ambled over to one of the big four-poster beds and opened his obviously new trunk, pulling out. . .  
"Huh?" Harry exclaimed before he could stop himself. In the corner of his eye he could see an open-mouthed Seamus staring at Near, completely speechless. "N-Near. . . what are - is that a - are you. . "  
"This?" Near asked, finally seeming to notice them. "It's a rocket." And he turned his back on them, seemingly oblivious to Harry and Seamus's stares. 

 

"Hey, Harry! Lee's got his hands on the staff supply of Butterbeer and he's giving them ou-"   
Ron stopped sharply in midstream and gawped at the innocent-faced Near. "Wha-wait. What are you. . You're. . Is that a rocket?"  
"Hm? Oh, yes," Near said, glancing at Ron's popping eyes. "Don't you have them over here?"  
"Near. . " Began Seamus, finally rediscovering the use of his voice. "You. . You're at least twelve, right?"  
"Yes. I turned twelve last month."  
"Just. . . Why are you. . . playing . . . with a toy rocket? It's-"  
Seamus's strangled voice was cut off midsentence. "Because I enjoy it," said a voice, Near's voice. His statement hung in the air for what seemed like hours. Then Ron spoke the thought that was running through everyone's mind.   
"You can't be playing with toys, mate. Not when you're twelve. It's just. . wrong. Everyone will think you're crazy or worse. They'll be laughing at you. They'll. . ."  
Near paused, waiting for Ron to finish. When it was clear that no-one was going to, he spoke. "I don't care about people's opinions. The only person's opinion I ever minded was L's. But thank you for your warning, Ron-san. " He smiled a strange U-shaped grin. "It's interesting to hear other people's thoughts sometimes." 

 

The silence stretched out across the dormitory. Ron examined Near slowly, finally yanking back his bed-curtains and collapsing into the privacy of his four-poster. But Near didn't seem at all fazed. After pulling out an old, one-eyed teddy and a long-eared blue rabbit he climbed into his bed, pulling the cover into a little ball around him and falling asleep. 

 

With a sigh Harry slowly pulled on his pyjamas and sat on the edge of his four-poster. His day had been long, and strange, and not at all to his liking. Whichever way you put it, Near had ruined his Hogwarts homecoming, Harry's most eagerly anticipated day of the year. That in itself was horrible, but if you added in the toys, the sorting hat, the attitude. . . Harry wasn't really sure what to think about Near, but he knew with absolute certainty he detested him. 

 

A brooding Ron saw Harry's expression and sighed grumpily. "At least he isn't in our year," he muttered, casting a dark look towards Near's sleeping form. "Wait, why was he in third year dorm any-"  
"Please don't talk any more," came Near's voice. It would be almost cute if he didn't know whose voice it was, Harry thought. "I sleep early in the evening and don't want to be disturbed. But I thought Ron-san would like to know that he is wrong. Because of my mental abilities, Professor Dumbledore decided to place me in the third year. And so it follows," and he smiled his little crooked smile, "that you are my classmates."

 

Harry saw Ron's body stiffen with suprise then relax. He gave Near an almost unrecognisably twisted grin. "Aw, this'll be fun," he smiled.   
"Yes." Near replied, curling into a ball. "I look forward to it, Ron-san. Goodnight."

"What a mess," Seamus muttered once he was absolutely sure that Near was actually asleep. "What a bloody mess."  
"Took the words right out of my mouth," replied a grim-faced Harry.

***

"Jeez, it's way too early to get up," Ron moaned for perhaps the hundredth time. Hermione lowered her spoon and fixed Ron with a steely gaze. "It's 7:50, Ronald. I thought you were used to getting up early?"  
"Yeah, but- "  
"Good morning Harry-san and Ron-san. Did you sleep well?"  
Near. Harry avoided his gaze, lowering his head and biting off a huge mouthful of toast. Ron did similarly, completely ignoring the small 12-year-old. "Ron! Harry!" Hermione hissed under her breath. Ron yelped in pain - presumably she had kicked him - and finally looked at Near. "I slept fine," he muttered.   
"How about you Harry-san?"  
Harry glared at him, his cheeks flushed, hating his stupid game. "Yeah, great, thanks."  
Near didn't seem bothered by Harry's dirty look, although Hermione flushed red and whispered "Harry!".  
"Apparently we have Potions first. Could someone tell me about the basics? I missed two years' worth."  
"Nope," whispered Ron, and Harry tried to suppress his snigger. To his suprise, however, a familiar voice replied. "I'll tell you about Potions if you want, Near."  
"Thank you," replied Near with a courteous nod. Reaching into his oversized pyjama pocket he pulled out

**Author's Note:**

> -and there it ends. Who knows what I was going to write?


End file.
